Silar and Tes
by Caren Rose
Summary: An architect and a spy ... make a cute couple. He's head over heels for her (as much as a Vulcan can be). She's got a haunted past. Part of House Thelai "series."
1. Chapter 1: Silar & Tes

**A/N:** Yeah, I'm also gonna dedicate this chapter to Fameanon. Because she read over this for me once :D Yay for awesome people!

* * *

It was not a limp, precisely, moreso it was stiffness in gait that belied her injury. And every now and then, she found herself struggling to take a breath, too-familiar pain and heaviness in her chest. Her scars had faded from pale green to white. She did not have to see the healers any longer, they believed her physical and mental recovery nearly complete. Yet still they had assured her, it was normal there would be nights the memories would not let her rest, and with time, this would pass.

* * *

Tes came to the V'Shar just discharged from the Vulcan Defense Force, the details of how she had sustained her various injuries still classified. She had been an intelligence officer for years, and the V'Shar considered her experience more important than her physical condition.

The healers approved her return to work, and believed it beneficial to her continued recovery. After the initial records checks came up clear, she was rapidly accepted into the V'Shar Academy.

There, as everywhere else, she faced prejudice for her chosen adherence to Tu-Nirak, and thus, her "incomplete" suppression of emotion. While the philosophy was generally accepted as valid and she was certainly not a vre'kasht, one who chose a life of reckless lack of control, it took time for the instructors and her fellow trainees to accept that she was competent. Little did they realize how much she did suppress, how many hours of meditation she spent then, and the dreams that still fractured her sleep.

It rained for some part of 94% of the days she spent there. The local climate's similarity to Romulus was not lost on most. For Tes, the humidity, the tightness in her chest, the shortness of breath, reminded her that had she chosen the V'Shar years ago, had she been sent to Romulus instead, none of it would have happened.

Her training at the academy was interrupted, during a hand-to-hand combat proficiency test, when a sparring partner struck her injured right knee. Whether truly an accident or not, the impact tore ligaments that were not fully healed, and rendered her unable to walk again for several days.

Still, this was not considered too great a liability, and upon completion of her training, she was stationed in Vulcana Regar in an import/export business - a front organization - near the V'Shar Headquarters.

Also living there in Vulcana Regar was a young architect, Silar, to whom Tes had been bonded when they were children.

* * *

The secretary alerted him to the presence of a potential client in the lobby, for an entirely unscheduled meeting.

"Send them up," Silar had told him. Curious, few clients, Vulcan or otherwise, came here without an appointment. They knew he was frequently out of his office.

A woman stood before him, she was short, with curly hair. Something about her was very familiar. The intense blue eyes. And, the urge to touch ... Touching, yet not touching; apart, yet never apart ...

"Tes?"

"Yes, Silar. It's me."

Suddenly at a loss for words despite himself, Silar stepped back and surveyed her appearance. He had not seen her since the kan-telan. She had become quite ... pleasing aesthetically since then.

He cleared his throat roughly. "Why are you here?"

"I live in Vulcana Regar now."

He motioned for her to take a seat, and sat down himself. Belatedly, he remembered he did have an appointment with a client scheduled in less than twenty minutes.

* * *

She had agreed to wait for him out there in the lobby. Now, as he approached, she looked up at him and - curiously - smiled. He raised an eyebrow.

"I would like to go someplace to eat together, if you have time, but I confess I am not yet familiar with the local establishments. Do you have any recommendations?"

"There is a place nearby - a man named Malok owns it. I have found the food agreeable."

"Good," she said simply, rising to her feet. "When is your next appointment?"

"I have no further obligations for the day."

She smiled again, a smile that reached her eyes. He recalled that several in her family had chosen to follow Tu-Jarok or Tu-Nirak, it was probable that she had become one of those who did. In theory, he did not take issue with this, the philosophies were those of Surak's first students. But he still wondered if difficulties would arise once they had been fully bonded.

Her voice broke him from his thoughts. "I do not know the way, Silar. Instead of staring at me, let's go."

He nodded. He held the lobby door open for her, a gesture of courtesy he had learned from some human clients, and they exited onto the street.

The way she walked caught his notice, indicating pain or structural weakness on her right side.

He stopped her, lightly placing his hand on her arm. He would have preferred to take her hand, to press his fingers to hers. "Are you injured?" he asked.

Her expression remained well controlled, but a darkness came over her eyes. She said nothing.

"You must tell me, Tes," he said, more intensity creeping into his voice than he intended. "Are you in pain?"

Again, she did not answer, this time softly removing his hand from her arm.

"Tes!" He turned and grabbed her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. "Tell me."

"It is something I do not wish to speak about. Now remove your hands from me, we are in public."

He let his hands fall back to his sides and fought a surge of embarrassment. She was right, they were in public, he should not be acting like this.

He stepped from her path and they began walking again. Her refusal to answer his questions was as good as affirmative, and he found this troubled him deeply. She was injured. She was in pain.

Though he knew they only had a base bond, he tried to access it anyway. Even with her physically nearby, though, he still could sense no more than just that, a base bond.

A series of raspy coughs caught his attention. "Silar ..." she clutched at her chest, trying to stop the coughing. "Slow down."

"You are not well, Tes!" He stopped her again, standing in front of her but trying to keep himself from touching her this time. She bent over, bracing hands on thighs, trying to take deep breaths.

It brought to recall, eight months ago ...

He had been drawing plans when he began to feel strange. Almost ill. It was unusual for an illness to come on so suddenly, but he put it aside and continued working. For several weeks he continued to feel mildly fatigued, but could not determine why. One evening, as he was meditating, a heaviness came over his chest, and he found himself gasping for breath. The feeling mostly passed within twenty minutes, but he had been concerned enough to schedule an appointment to see a doctor in the morning. The doctor found nothing wrong, and the lingering pressure had entirely disappeared by the following evening.

He had not realized it until now. It was Tes. The bond. But if he could not feel anything here, now, how much greater did her pain have to be then?

A part of him growled in anger. Who did this to her? They had hurt her! When he got his hands on whoever had done this to his telsu ...

Tes called his name quietly, voice raspy. "What is, is, Silar. Nothing you can do will change the past."

... he would break their neck! No, no, even that would be too merciful. They had made her suffer. He would ...

"Silar!"

He unclenched his fists, unaware they had been that way in the first place.

"Come, let's go eat."


	2. Chapter 2: Chosen

**Chapter 2: Chosen**

* * *

Tes knew Malok, and had worked with him recently, though she never said word of it to Silar. She had not suggested they eat at his restaurant, that idea was entirely Silar's. He was apparently quite impressed by the place, and wanted to keep returning there.

Tes had met Malok her first day in Vulcana Regar. He was a former V'Shar agent, retired but still contracting with them, orienting newcomers like her to the area. As a restaurant owner, he had knowledge and contacts, and certain social skills many young Vulcans often struggled with.

Silar still did not know nearly as much about her as he thought.

She knew he would need to be informed of several things before their bonding. As it was now, he had not indicated he knew anything of her true profession. She had planned that, and planned to tell him what he needed to know just shortly before they were fully bonded. It was an acceptable solution, one she had thought quite adequate for years.

Except that she had assumed their bonding would come only once the pon farr had begun.

She hadn't exactly factored in living near each other, spending time together, and ... finding themselves drawn to each other.

And thus that they may end up bonding sooner than she expected.

They spent much time together, now. At first they had met at Malok's restaurant once every four days, but they had gradually come to meet there every day. Tes began to come to Silar's office, on days when she had finished working but he had not. She quickly came to find their times together enjoyable, and to find Silar agreeable in personality and in appearance.

He was definitely attracted to her, she could feel as much from him. He enjoyed their time together as well, though he would never say it, and tried to suppress it.

Malok showed up at her workplace one day, asking if Silar was her telsu. If he was not, he warned her, she was getting too dangerously involved with him. Not only did he spend a great deal of time with her, and apparently had gained her attraction, but Malok believed he may have been slowly working to extract information from her.

She had just laughed, a response met with a raised eyebrow and tilted head. "I am not careless, Malok," she had said. "He has been watched, monitored, subjected to various background tests, since before we were bonded as children. He is trustworthy."

Their bond had been well chosen, of that much she was sure.

* * *

"I brought you something."

Silar looked up from his work to see Tes standing in front of his drafting table, holding something in a small paper bag.

She wrinkled the bag. "Where can I put this?"

"I did not think you were coming today. What is in the bag?"

"Something I found today. I thought you would like it."

He furrowed his brow. "What is it?"

"Something that you will like."

He put down his pencil and stood up. "I see."

She smiled at him, that peculiar smile that she showed so often when they were together. "Do you have a replicator here?"

He shook his head. "No, but we have a small kitchen. Will that suffice?"

"It should. Can you show me where it is?"

He glanced back at the drafting table. "Come with me."

She followed him through the hall to the tiny kitchen, limping behind him. He was concerned that she was not able to keep up with his pace today, but every time he slowed, so did she.

Finally, she asked, "Why do you keep slowing down, Silar?"

"You are walking behind me. I thought you ... were having trouble."

"I cannot walk behind you?"

"I ... you can, but I will slow down for you if you wish ... " He looked down at the ground, at the distance between them. Even throughout all his slightly erratic speed changes during their short walk, he realized she had kept this distance constant. He looked up again and met her eyes, taking short strides towards her, approximately the length of hers. Three steps. He fought a sudden surge of pride. "Yes, you may walk there, Tes. I apologize, I did not realize ... the reason. You have not done this before."

"We have not walked together often."

He nodded. A few more steps, and they reached the kitchen door.

He turned again, and she raised both eyebrows. "Are we going to enter?"

"Of course," he nodded and fought back embarrassment, opening the door. "We have a stasis unit, a rewarmer, a sink. Will that suffice?"

"Does the sink have water?"

"Yes, and a small sonic washer."

"Are there dishes of any sort? And a table?"

"There are a few dishes in those cabinets." He pointed. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Are you?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes, I believe I am. I have not given it much thought." Something like panic suddenly struck him. "I ... I did not mean to neglect your needs, Tes. I could have rescheduled my meeting with my client and we could have gone to Malok's like usual. I did not mean to ..."

"Would you like to know what is in the bag?"

He had forgotten about the bag. "Yes."

She set her package down on the small counterspace, and pulled a container from it. It contained an emerald-green substance, slightly textured, with a disconcerting resemblance to coagulating blood.

"What is that?"

"Ratamba stew. It's Bajoran." She pulled out another package, something wrapped in plastic and white paper, and set it on top of the container of ... stew.

"Is it edible?"

"Yes, and it tastes good, too." She reached up into the cabinets and retrieved bowls and drinking glasses.

"It does not look good, nor edible."

She shook her head. "Do you have utensils?"

He opened a drawer. "It looks ... like blood. Are you sure it is edible?"

"Yes, Silar. It is a Bajoran dish, and would not have such connotations to them. I can assure you it contains nothing undesirable." She began unwrapping the other package, the one wrapped in plastic and white paper. A strong, but agreeable smell of savory herbs filled the room.

"What is that? It has an agreeable scent."

She showed him one of the small things, a pale bread with green flecks.

"Krei'la?"

"Droli. Also Bajoran." She split the strange green stew evenly between two bowls and placed three of the small biscuits on top of each.

"Where did you get these?"

"Here, in Vulcana Regar. There is a small restaurant on Khu'rak Street that is owned by Bajorans." She retrieved two glasses from the cabinets and filled them both with water from the sink. "Is there a table where we may eat?"

"The desk in my office is adequate for that purpose."

He grabbed the two bowls, and Tes followed him out of the little kitchen up to his office.

* * *

Silar set the two bowls down on his desk, clearing away the few PADDs that cluttered the surface. She watched him eye the stew warily, before sitting down and motioning for her to do the same.

She did not sit down, but ensured she had his attention as she set down one glass in front of her bowl, and took a long drink from the other.

Silar's attention drifted back to the stew in front of him, and he slowly reached for the glass she had set beside her own bowl.

Tes reached over the desk and grabbed his hand, stopping it. He looked up at her, shocked at the touch. "_This_ is your glass, Silar," she said, holding out the glass she had drank from.

"Oh," he replied, as if remembering something forgotten. He truly was slow to notice some things, she thought.

As realization dawned, his eyes grew wide. He took the offered glass and drank it quickly, never breaking eye contact with her. Still, he seemed confused.

"You are already my telsu," he said. "Why have you done this?"

"To ensure that you know I am yours. That I want you. That I have chosen you."

He swallowed slowly, not saying anything, keeping his eyes glued on her as she sat down and began to eat.

"What do you think of the stew, Silar?"

He raised an eyebrow. He still had not tried it.

"At least eat a droli."

He did. "This is an agreeable food."

"Try the stew."

He did, still staring at her, willing to do anything she asked of him at the moment.

"What do you think?"

"You have chosen me?"

"Have I not sought you out, spent a great deal of my time with you, Silar?"

He nodded. "I didn't think ..."

"What?"

"I ... I don't know. I didn't think you would ... have chosen me ... if you had the chance. Being bonded, as children ... not everyone in my family does that. I heard ... stories ... as a child, about being rejected ... left ... to die, when ..." Waves of fear, of insecurity, were practically rolling off of him.

She took his hand again, pressing the pads of their fingers together. "I will never leave you, Silar. I will not reject you."

At that, he lurched forward, pressing one finger to the freckle above her right eyebrow. She could sense his struggle to keep his hands from moving downward to initiate a meld ... or complete their bond. So he just sat, frozen, leaning towards her like that with a single finger on her face, breathing heavily.

She smiled slightly. "What are you doing, Silar?"

"I ... I am ... not sure." His fingers began to drift downwards, closer to the meld points.

"Silar ..."

He tore his hands away.

She reached again for his wrist, fingers working towards his palm. "You don't have to stop."

"I do, Tes. I have clients. Clients, that will be here soon. If we had continued ... I do not know if ... we would have ... I would be free to ..." His other hand found its way upward, seemingly of its own volition, and he began caressing her jaw. "You try my control, Tes."

"I know."

A low growl escaped his throat as his fingers found her earlobe and began to work upwards towards the tip.

She smiled. As he slowly traced up the outer edge of her ear, making small circular motions, she did the same to the palm of his other hand. He breathed in sharply, eyes closed.

He stopped, eyes snapping open again, and ran his finger along the uneven scar near the tip of her ear. "What happened, Tes?"

She slowly let out a breath. "It is something I do not wish to speak of."

He freed his other hand from hers and reached for her other ear, finding the same scar there. "You have said that before ... about ... your difficulty breathing. Why will you not tell me? Who did these things to you?"

"It was a painful time, Silar," she said solemnly.

"I felt your pain, through our bond."

Her eyes widened. They only had a base bond. "I ... did not mean for that to happen. I mean ... " The words she wanted to say just would not come to her. "I mean, I didn't know that it could. I apologize." She took a deep breath. "You should have been kept from that. It was ... it was ..."

"You must have been subjected to a great deal of pain."

She nodded, and swallowed. "I was."

"Are there more injuries?"

"Minor things. Scars. Healed ... "

"Why, Tes? Why would someone injure you?"

"I said, I do not wish to speak of it."

"Tes ..." She could feel his anger building, seeping through his control.

"Why are you angry?"

He visibly twitched. "How ..." He looked down at their hands, which were no longer touching.

"I have some empathic ability."

"Oh." He sighed and took several deep breaths, attempting to center himself. "I am not angry at you, Tes. It is ... whoever would harm you in this manner ... " His anger flared again, but he reached over and took her hand. "Please, tell me. I am your telsu. You can ... why will you not speak of it?"

She took a breath, attempted to speak, and found she could not.

"Tes?"

"I ... I cannot."

"Are you still in danger?"

"No."

"Why can you not speak of it?"

"It is ... difficult." _It should not be, not this difficult,_ she thought. It had been eight months. She _could_ control this. She had to.

He waited, still holding her hand.

"I still cannot separate ... discussing and ... and talking about it ... from ... " She inhaled deeply. "From the experience. From experiencing it again. I mean ... " Another breath. "I ... I was tortured, Silar. I ..."

She did not need her empathic skills to see his control break. He was shocked, angry, he truly had not concluded that for himself. "How long ... were you ... " He breathed heavily.

How long? She hadn't known at the time. Only from reports, later on. "Nineteen days."

In a moment he was up, his chair falling to the floor. The stew sloshed onto his desk. He clenched his fists, then grabbed her by the shoulders. "Who? Who did this?" He gripped her tighter, fire blazing in his eyes. "Tell me, Tes, so I may kill them! _No one_ will harm you like that and live!"

"They ... they are already dead. It's ... it's over. It's over."

"Who killed them?"

"I cannot say."

"That was _my_ duty! I should have been the one to kill them! You are mine, Tes! Mine! And I will avenge you!"

"Silar, they would have killed _you_ before you could get within fifty meters of them. You would not have stood a chance."

He suddenly lifted her up from her chair into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest and stroking her hair with one hand. He still had not regained his control, and he had seemed to have given up trying. Still, she found his embrace comforting, the brush of his mind against hers as his fingers trailed her scalp to be welcome.

"I will not allow harm to come to you again." He set her down on the desk and lifted his hand to her face, pulling her towards his touch.

And then he was there, in her mind, the fire and the chaos of the unrestrained Vulcan mind, pulling her down with him toward places she had not willingly been in many months.

_Silar, don't._

He pulled back.

_I can't ... There are too many things that have not healed yet. Maybe ... someday ..._

She was hit with an almost overwhelming sense of shame, not her own, and suddenly the meld had broken, surroundings becoming clear again.

Silar sank down into one of the chairs, burying his face in hands. "I apologize," he choked out, voice thick. "I should not have done that. I should not have ... I apologize. I should not have initiated a meld in such a ... state. I apologize. Tes ..." He stood quickly. "I cannot stay here. I need time ... to meditate ... "

Against rationality, she reached out and stopped him from leaving.

Within seconds, she found herself standing up, back pushed to the wall, his body pressed to hers, his hands pulling at her collar, his mouth searching her neck to mark her. Fire surged through her veins, her own and his, as his hand reached for her face again and he bit down along her collarbone.

But Silar jumped back, as if painfully shocked, wiping her blood from his lip. He stared down at the green streaks on his fingers with wide eyes, then turned, and fled.


End file.
